100 Kisses
by EleanorTheRigby
Summary: A series of shorts in response to a challenge/prompt on tumblr simply given as "write 100 different kisses". Updates may be sporadic and will vary by length and characters. Main pairings will be Remus Lupin/Doe Meadowes, Lily Evans/James Potter, and any number of OCs, but all will be in the Marauder's Era of Harry Potter. Rated T for language. Rating may change as needed.
1. Almosts

**_A/N:_**_ This is based off a prompt from tumblr that simply said "write 100 kisses". Since I'm pretty atrocious at doing that, I read a few articles and then somehow this popped into my head. Enjoy!_

_Oh yeah, I don't own the characters. Whatever._

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1. The Almost

It had been like this all. Day. Long. Always so close… so very tantalisingly close. And then nothing. Remus couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of karma thing. For all those times he'd been too formal with her. For all those times he'd used her birth name or her surname instead of one of the nicknames she always insisted that her mates use.

It had started at breakfast.

He'd been sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, making his way through an obscenely large pile of eggs when she sat down next him. Hell, he might as well tell the truth: she practically sat _on_ him; she was so bloody close.

"D-Dorcas," he stammered, moving a bit to the side.  
"Mmm, good morning, Lupin," she said quietly as she encroached all the more, her left arm reaching past him. The mint from her toothpaste was still on her breath as it tickled his face. And her breasts… close. Seven hells.  
"W-w-what are you…" he stammered, aware that blood was rushing to his face.  
"Just getting the marmalade," she responded in a throaty voice that made his insides squirm. She looked him in the eye for just a moment, and he thought he might just fall over from the intensity in her eyes.

Her arm was moving back towards her and her upper body leaned into him all the more so that their noses were very nearly touching. Remus was acutely aware that he had stopped breathing seconds ago and his heart might be in need of some medical attention, because it surely wasn't beating correctly.

"There. Got it," she whispered, her breath, warm, and deliciously minty wafting across his face. Any moment her lips would touch his. How would he even consider controlling himself or holding back?

But it didn't matter, because as quickly as she was there, she was gone, walking back down the length of the table. Her hips moved in a way he wasn't quite used to seeing and it wasn't until she sat down at an empty spot and looked in his direction that he realized he had been staring at her with his jaw slightly slack. She sent him a wink and then turned towards her breakfast as he sat, still in shock and then closed his mouth, swallowing heavily.

Then there had been Herbology. Somehow, she had ended up right next to him. He suspected Sirius had more than a little part in it.

"Oh, look out," she said, turning and leaning in close to him as she reached for an empty pot from his other side, her face so close, her breath blowing in his ear. She was pressed lightly against his arm for the briefest of moments.

And then she was gone, focusing intently upon repotting the dirigible plums that were part of the day's lesson.

"Y-yeah, sure," he said.

And then the plum he had been holding in his hands exploded rather violently.

There was Potions, in which he found himself inexplicably working with her in the only group of two (there was an odd number that day). This time he blamed Sirius and James. Those gits would have a surprise for them later, he would make sure of it.

"Sorry," she said as she began to lean across him, "I just need…"

He tried to turn his face away from hers, but was held captive by her eyes. They were mostly grey, but right around the pupils, there were starbursts of the prettiest shade of green… sort of a jade. Without being conscious of it, he automatically licked his lips. She was close. So close. She was going to do this right in the middle of Potions, right in front of everyone, in the middle of a class. Hell.

"Linseed oil," she said with a smile as she sent him another flirtatious wink and returned to her position several feet away from him.

Remus gulped loudly and then turned towards his cauldron, taking a deep breath to try to remind his body and lungs how to function properly.

And then the contents of his cauldron exploded, sending hundreds of periwinkle blue sparks in a 5-metre radius around him.

"Stir class, stir!" Professor Slughorn reminded them loudly. "Mister Lupin, you may have just enough time to try again, if you act quickly. Pip-pip!"

That woman was going to be the death of him.

That's what he thought in Transfiguration, their last class of the day. That was the brilliant part of Thursdays – always a light schedule.

It was another day of human transfiguration and somehow, in some mysterious twist of fate, Professor McGonagall had paired them together. This was ridiculous.

"I'm not sure if I really changed them," Doe said, leaning in close to inspect his eyes, which she had been transfiguring into a different shape. He was prepared now, and sat as still as a statue with his lips pursed. Still, she came closer until she was just barely in focus, her face centimetres from his as she "inspected her work". He could fell the heat radiating off her skin, could smell her shampoo – strawberries and lemon – and see every faint freckle dancing upon her cheeks. She blinked and he swore he could feel the tickling of her eyelashes. Making her move in Professor Slughorn's class was one thing. But in Professor McGonagall's? Merlin, they'd be in detention for the rest of their days.

She sighed and once again he was treated to the scent of her toothpaste – not too strong, but strong enough to be detectable and enticing.

And then she was leaning back in her chair, very a la Sirius Black. Her wand arm was draped over the chair's back and her spare arm hung limp by her side as she crossed one leg over the other and looked at him expectantly.

"Your turn, Lupin."

Even the library wasn't safe.

He was flipping through a higher-level Defence book when he sensed a presence over his shoulder. He didn't have to guess at who it would be. For one thing, the scent of strawberry-lemon shampoo was etched into his memory for all time. For another, it was just predictable at this point.

"Need a hand getting a book?" he asked before she could begin her little act.  
"If you must," she said quietly.  
"Which?" Remus asked a bit tersely, setting his book on a nearby shelf to free his hands.  
"Are you cross with me, Lupin?"  
"What book do you require?" he repeated.

She paused for so long in answering that he very nearly looked over his shoulder to check if she was still there. But finally he heard her say:

"_Prolonged exposure to Dark Objects: Case Studies, 1800-1899_."

Remus nodded and easily _accio'd_ the book, turning around and holding it out with both hands for her to take. She took a small step forward, her head down slightly and her hands wrapped onto the book, her thumbs on the top cover, and the rest of her hand below. She began to pull it away, but Remus held on and then pulled, catching her off guard so that she stumbled forward and lost grip of the book. In one fluid motion, he dropped the book and placed one hand on the back of her head and the other on her hip as he brought her body and face to his.

Their lips met a bit rougher than he had intended, but he eased up quickly. Her lips were soft and he could taste lingering mint – just how often did she brush her teeth? But that thought was banished from his mind. He could feel her eyelashes tickling the tops of his cheeks and then her hands were on his sides. He could feel her fingers through his shirt and jumper and longed to feel them on the bare skin.

They parted slowly, and he opened his eyes before she did, allowing him to take in her features when they were awash with surprise, longing, and ecstasy. It struck him for the first time in a long time just how beautiful she really was.

And how little he deserved her.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning over to pick up the book he'd dropped.  
He stood straight and found her staring at him with an unfathomable expression. "Are you really?" she asked, her eyes boring into his, as if staring right at his soul.  
"No," he answered.

She closed the space between them and gently pressed her lips to his for hardly even a second.

"Good," she whispered, taking the book from his hands and walking from the aisle to the librarian's desk.

Remus didn't move and scarcely thought for about thirty seconds.

"Ante up, Prongs," came Sirius' voice from behind the next shelf.

Those gits.

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_**A/N 2:** I'm not sure when the next one will be posted. Maybe this technically counts as two. Eh, no matter. Reviews are very much appreciated! How can I improve if I don't know what I'm doing wrong?_

_Ciao!  
-El_


	2. Honey

_**A/N:**__ Many thanks to JKR for giving us this wonderful world and these lovely characters._

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2. Honey

It was not their most cleverly named treat; that was for sure. _Honey Bees_. How in Godric's name could anyone guess that something named after a true insect was a confectionary made from honey, vanilla, and a few other delectables? She had been dared to try one in her third year, and in a flash of general annoyance and irritation, had accepted.

They were much like the idea behind chocolate frogs. They were sweets that resembled a living thing and that moved around a bit. Of course, they didn't have stingers, because then who would eat them? But in all other respects, Honey Bees looked like the real deal, which is why Lily had shown disgust towards them and why, after getting in an altercation with that _git_, she had been forced to eat one.

Now it was four years later and she was recalling that specific memory as she held a jar of what had quickly become her favourite treat.

"…I can't believe you're making me do this," said her boyfriend – the same git from four years earlier – in a generally disgruntled tone.  
"Hush, you'll thank me for it later."

To Lily, a Honey Bee was late spring and early summer in edible form. It was freshly blooming flowers that needed pollinating. It was light breezes upon bare skin, and sun baking warmth. It was the smell of fresh rain in a garden. It was dew upon the front lawn in the early morning as the fog lifted back into the sky. It was the sound of textbook pages ruffling in the breeze as she did her holiday homework on her bed with the window open. It was the tinkling of the neighbour's wind chimes.

Minutes later, when James pressed his lips to hers in a hidden alleyway in the small village, Lily found that she could forget it was winter. The taste of vanilla washed away the vision of the dirty slush in the road. The rich honey took away the bite from the harsh December wind. The subtle notes of cinnamon brought the sound of the wind through leaves to her ears.

As their lips parted and his tongue tentatively greeted her mouth, she could forget about the war, about school, about her sister, about… everything.

Because as their breaths mingled, and their hands gripped each other's bodies tight, the rest of the world fell away from them.

And everything was honey.


	3. Feather

3. Feather

It's not always the passionate kisses full of need that can unravel a person. Sometimes, it's when the two of you have had a long day and you're sitting by the fire in the common room. It's late, and so even though the two of you are alone, your voices are hushed. The springtime thunderstorm outside threatens to drown out your whispered words, so you lean closer together on the floor directly in front of the source of warmth. You can never remember what it was that the two of you talked about later – everything and nothing all at once. It isn't significant.

As the minutes tick by on the large clock in the common room, the two of you have crept closer and closer together. You've stopped talking, but when?

He's so close you think you could count every eyelash if given the time.

She's so close you can see every freckle kissing her cheeks.

And then it happens – she brushes her lips against yours.

No – _he_ brushes _his_ lips against yours. They're so warm and this isn't allowed; this is forbidden. He has specific lines drawn and always reminds you of them. But his lips are just barely touching yours and your heart has begun beating in double time. A jolt of excitement and desire runs from your lips to your toes, to your stomach, to the tips of your fingers. Your body buzzes with electricity, wanting _more_ always more.

His lips are feather light upon yours and for an instant he touches them together for the first time. And then his presence is drawn away. But your eyes are still closed because you need to savour this moment. You know that when you open your eyes he'll be apologising and saying that he never should have done that, that the two of you _can't_ do that.

So you keep your eyes closed a little longer. You delay the inevitable heartbreak for as long as you can.

You take a shaking breath and open your eyes.


	4. It doesn't matter

_**A/N:** Okay so I wrote this in a great hurry. I'm exhausted from work and I've had about 1.5 glasses of wine (not wine glasses, mind you, but actual drinking glasses - I'm overage, so it's okay. If you're not of age, ignore my bad influence). I tried to check for grammar and spelling mistakes, but my contacts are refusing to focus and I have a million other excuses for why this might be utterly terrible. But I hope it isn't because it's been buzzing in my head in some form for a while (that's a lie, it just poured out of my fingers of it's own accord). Anyway, I hope it's enjoyable! Reviews keep me happy and inspired!_

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4. It doesn't matter

James had fantasised about this day for just about six years. Ever since he had first seen the redhead and learned of trips to the nearby village, he had wanted nothing more than to spend the whole day with her. He had wanted to take her into ever shop and amaze her with his wit. He wanted to take her to the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes, and like the gentleman he was, pay for whatever she wanted. He would at some point take her hand in his and she wouldn't yank it away with a look of pure venomous disgust. Everything would be perfect, right down to the kiss goodnight where the stairs in Gryffindor Tower split into the respective genders' dormitories.

Good Merlin, he sounded like a bloody bird.

No, James would not be made to feel guilty or ashamed of his thoughts. He was in love with Lily Evans, goddamn it, and it didn't matter who knew, or what they thought of him for it.

Except for her. When it came to Lily, it always mattered. Well, sort of.

The point, _however_, was that this day was supposed to be perfect. After years of scheming, asking (if not pleading), bargaining, and attempted bribing, Lily had said yes. She'd finally said yes to him. He had been walking on air ever since. Nothing was capable of bringing him down – not the abysmal Quidditch practices, not the loads of homework they were all being assigned, not even his duties as Head Boy (he would never understand how he'd gotten that). As the muggles liked to say, he was on cloud nine and the world was his. The sun shone bright, the birds chirped happily, and the leaves were a cacophony of colours in celebration of his achievement.

Because she'd said yes, and because it was going to be _perfect_. There was only one problem:

Today was the day and not one thing was going right.

The temperature had taken a sharp turn downhill in the course of the night and had brought with it a torrential rain. It was impossible to walk outside for any length of time without getting completely drenched with frigid rain. Sure, there were impervious charms and umbrellas, but it wasn't _right_. Today was supposed to be a sunny and crisp autumn day – not a dreary, looks-like-winter's-come-early day.

Instead of being amused by his jokes in Zonko's, she had turned "Head Girl" on him and was reprimanding students for trying to purchase items specifically listed on Filch's banned items list. The Three Broomsticks had been so packed they had ended up at the Hog's Head, which she was looking at with feigned interest (clearly, she was hoping to leave soon). By the time they had gotten to Honeydukes, the establishment had been sold out of the things Lily liked. There really was no redeeming aspect of the day and James felt himself becoming more discouraged than ever. She would never agree to another date again, that was for sure. Had he been waiting and working all of these years just to get so close to the finish line and discover a cliff right ahead of it?

"I'm sorry today was so bloody rotten," he said hours later. His hands were in his pockets and he was kicking at the carpet covering the stairway between the two dormitory towers.  
"It doesn't matter," she said gently, rising up on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his cheek. Her nose was still a bit cold, but all James knew was that his heart was swelling and threatening to burst in his chest. "Next Hogsmeade date will be much better, I'm sure of it."

And then she was walking away, up the stairs of the girls' dormitories. James was only capable of one thought:

She had just stated that they were going to be going on another date.

"Hey!" he called after her.


End file.
